The Space Between

Chapter 1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~Daxton~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The closed door mocked me. That sleek piece of wood that kept us trapped in this small, dimly lit interrogation room. The only movement was the flickering red camera light, a sign that while the police may have not bothered to talk to us for the past two hours we have been locked in here, that they were watching us, and my rapid pacing. I couldn't help but pace. All I want to do is get my sister and I home, though the word home isn't what I would use to describe the mold filled, smoke smelling, damp apartment. As I walked back and forth, from stone wall to stone wall, I glanced at my sister.

Briella's small, thin form sat on one of the cold metal chairs. Despite being fifteen years old, at a whopping four point nine feet, she looked so young sitting there with her head barely reaching above the metal table In front of her. She sat there, my hoodie draped over her shoulders, perfectly silent and still. From a young age my sister had perfected this skill, she knew how to be as quiet as a mouse and as still as a statue. Lets just say I always lost statues in the park. Unlike my dear sister, I am incapable of holding still for longer than a minute. So, as we wait, I pace and move, muttering profanities to myself the entire time. Moving kept me calm, it kept my rising anger at bay; that and my baby sister.

"Dax," Briella softly called. I looked over to see her pale face, large purple bag growing beneath her empty eyes. Her hands were twined in her lap, her long brown hair falling in front of her face as she slumped in the stiff seat. Seeing her tired smile, I moved toward her. Walking around the table I lifted her up, only to sit in her seat with her in my lap. She rested her head on my shoulder and lightly ran her hands through my hair, soothing my nerves and frustrations away.

We stayed that way for a few beautiful, silent minutes till the dreaded question was asked. "Are you ok?"

"No," I said with a sigh, pausing before I speak again. "Are you?"

"No." Briella then stays silent leaving me to my thoughts, thoughts that she knows will soon be spoken aloud.

"I just don't get how time and time again she finds little ways to ruin our lives. I mean she's not even here and we are still stuck dealing with her mistakes." I just I trail off, too frustrated to continue.

"I know but she's still our mother."

"She is not my mother," at least she's not anymore. While my sister still holds out hope that the person who once was our caring, loving mother is still their, I have given up. The mother I once knew is gone. She left when she gave up on us, when others opinions became more important than our own, when she healed her pain with drugs and alcohol instead of letting us help, when she forgot about us time and time again. That is no mother, that is not my mother. Not anymore.

We then fell into a comfortable silence. There was no need to speak as we held each other in silence; fearing the worst but hoping for the best. Beyond our interrogation room we could faintly hear the steps of officers walking by, and the faint murmurs of conversations from beyond the door. It was quite frustrating to know so many officers were walking by, and yet none of them even thought to talk to us.

Its nerve wracking waiting. Waiting for something. Waiting for someone. Waiting for anything to happen. Im not a patient person; never have been, never will be. My sister on the other hand can wait, she's used to waiting for things. Does she like it or not? I quite honestly dont know. All I do know is that she never shows any frustration or annoyance. Even now her face is blank. Her big brown eyes are drooping with exhaustion and yet she hasn't said one negative word about our frustrating situation.

I, on the other hand, have a large scowl on my face. One that only grows as two spiffy looking cops walk in and glare at us before saying, "Why the hell were you two prissy city kids walking through a dark alleyway carrying two bags full of drugs?"